


Sweet Seduction

by schneescake



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, WhiteWitch, past Salem/Ozma references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:53:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29451846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schneescake/pseuds/schneescake
Summary: Winter is tasked with an important mission; she must seduce Salem in order to secure the future of Remnant.
Relationships: Salem/Winter Schnee
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	Sweet Seduction

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine’s Gay.
> 
> I had to write something for these two since they’re honestly my favourite at this point. This is just something I did for a bit of fun, so don’t take the plot too seriously. There's some smut in the final part, as a heads up for those who wish to skip over it (or skip to it, I ain't here to judge.)

Of all the crazy schemes Winter Schnee had come to expect going into her meetings with her superiors, their most recent was perhaps the most farcical idea she had ever heard. Sky-blue eyes were wide with shock, and the soldier was uncertain if disbelieving laughter or continued stunned silence was an appropriate response.

“I’m sorry, sir, but is this really the best plan moving forward?” Winter’s attention was drawn to the General, where he was standing rigidly, wearing a grim look.

“Yes,” he responded without hesitation. Winter let out a scoff before she could contain it, a hand rising to cover her face and hide her evident disapproval of their ludicrous mission. “I understand this is a, shall we say, _unique_ request, but it’s the best chance we have. If you choose to decline, we have no option but to respect your wishes.”

“The General is right,” Ozpin said, “we will only proceed with your blessing.”

Winter exhaled a sigh, her fingers rubbing against her temples with contained frustration. Her eyes slowly opened, glancing from Ironwood to Ozpin with a look that screamed of how insane the entire situation was.  
  
“This is ridiculous, it’ll never work,” she muttered under her breath.

“It’s our only option,” the General answered, making eye contact with Oz. He nodded to him to press on. “And we think you’re the best woman for the job. You possess all of the qualities that will attract Salem. She will no doubt see similarities in your honour and duty as a soldier to that of Ozma. At first it may...unsettle her, however, we’re certain you can turn the tide to our advantage, given the right approach.” 

Hearing the General mention ‘Salem’ and ‘attract’ in the same sentence was enough to make Winter huff out another disgruntled breath, her arms folding defensively across her chest.  
  
“But how will I...I’m not sure that I can-” Winter tried to explain, but her face grew hot with humiliation as she cut herself off. It made her unsettled at the ease of which Ozpin and James had discussed every _detail_ with her earlier.

“This is a delicate subject,” Ozpin reassured, sensing Winter’s uncertainty. “While it’s true Salem has lost most of her humanity over the many millennia she has been on this planet, I still believe there is some part of the woman she once was, underneath. All we’re asking is that you find that part and bring it to the surface.”

“By seducing her!” Winter’s voice grew in volume.  
  
“Winter,” James said firmly, but she gave no indication of acknowledging the warning.  
  
“It’s alright, James,” Oz held Winter’s gaze, remaining calm under steely, bright blue.

“Yes, by seducing her,” Oz repeated back as if it were as straightforward as any other mission objective. “We sent a message requesting a meeting with the intention of discussing the future of Remnant, and Salem has accepted. If you choose to proceed, you will be our representative for Atlas and meet with her alone.”

Despite the awkwardness of the debrief, Winter knew they were getting desperate and swiftly running out of options. The war had reached an impasse, with no clear, logical route to victory. It may have been insane, but these were her orders, and it was her duty...as a soldier.  
  
“I have always been willing and ready to lay down my life to protect Remnant. If this truly is what you believe to be best, I will do as you ask.”  
  
“Thank you, Winter,” Ozpin said, and Winter could see relief behind his tired smile. “I trust you understand the risk?” 

Winter’s expression hardened with determination and she gave a single nod.  
  
“I do.”

~ **** ~

With crossed legs and a bouncing foot, Winter stared blankly out of the airship window, watching the sky darken upon their approach to the LZ. Salem’s castle was a sight to behold, even with its eerie, foreboding atmosphere.

Large grimm soared through the air around them, but never attempted to strike down the ship. It served as a reminder that even without her presence, Salem could command the creatures of destruction to do her bidding, including an order to refrain from attack. The thought of the witch’s power and influence made Winter frown, serving as a reminder of the weight of her mission. Her shaking fingers curled into the fabric of navy blue military pants. 

She had to do this right...if she made one wrong move, took one step too far, she would fail, and Remnant’s future would be bleak and uncertain once more. A brief beeping noise over the comm channel broke Winter from her thoughts. The General was attempting to make contact. She reached to press accept at her earpiece, flinching from the growing static.  
  
“Winter, is the channel-...can’t seem to-...please respond,” Ironwood’s voice attempted to battle through the poor connection.  
  
“The signal is weak sir, but I’m receiving you. We’re approaching the LZ, ETA two minutes. I’ll report in as soon as I can,” Winter responded, releasing the connection once Ironwood had confirmation on her answer.

Winter reached to unbuckle her belt, rising from the co-pilot seat to watch the airship make its landing atop one of the spacious stairways leading into the castle interior. After thanking her pilot, Winter disembarked from the airship, taking several confident strides towards where a burly man was waiting for her arrival.

“You must be the representative from Atlas,” the man addressed once Winter was close enough, his voice as rough as his expression. “Should have known you’d arrive on time, the others were all late,” he continued, motioning with his head for Winter to follow him.  
  
“I see,” she responded, despite being unsure what to say, considering she knew they had been late on purpose by Ozpin’s orders. The man led her up the stairs towards a set of wooden double doors which appeared to open on their own once they were close enough. Winter tried not to let it put her on edge, she was tense enough already without the possibility that the castle could be _sentient_.

“You’re the last meeting of the day,” he added as they walked, but Winter was more interested in the candle-lit corridors and mysterious patterns on the walls. Sensing her distraction, the man cleared his throat loudly to garner Winter’s attention. She met his eyes, noticing he looked oddly concerned for her. “She’s tired and her patience is wearing thin. Be careful what you say in there.” Winter stared blankly for a second, before realising he was trying to warn her of Salem’s mood.

“Thank you, I will,” The soldier inclined her head to show her appreciation, coming to a halt as the man directed her towards a door, pushing it open for her.  
  
“The representative from Atlas has arrived, ma’am,” he declared to the meeting room, his head turning towards where Salem was standing by the glass windows with her back to the room. 

Winter’s eyes followed the man’s until she too, was looking upon Salem for the first time. Ozpin and Ironwood had described her in detail, her physical appearance, her demeanor...but they had failed to do justice describing the powerful aura emanating from the witch. Winter wasn’t sure if she should feel afraid or impressed by the strange pull Salem had over any other presence.

“That will be all, Hazel,” the witch softly dismissed. He reached to close the door behind him.  
  
It finally dawned on Winter where she was standing as the silence hit her harder than any blow during battle. Suddenly performance anxiety kicked in, and Winter found herself frozen on the spot by the now sealed exit. She could feel her heart hammering against her ribcage from nerves. 

The endless intel Ozpin and Ironwood had tried to burn into her brain flew through her head like a snowstorm; too fast for her to grasp onto anything useful. Just as Winter opened her mouth to speak, Salem lifted her arm, a pale hand gesturing with two fingers for her to approach. 

The dead feeling in Winter’s legs was replaced by a flight response as she took several steps into the room, far too quickly for her liking. Salem hadn’t seemed to notice her unease. Slowly, the witch turned from where she was looking out over the land of darkness, to face the room. 

“General Ironwood informed me that he would be sending one of his best soldiers for this negotiation,” Salem spoke, her frightening eyes settling on Winter with a cold stare. 

Winter couldn’t explain what happened to her under those black and red eyes, but her voice sounded strange to her own ears when she finally found it again.

“Special operative Winter Schnee, ma’am. On behalf of Atlas, and the General, I’d like to thank you for having me,” she introduced herself, extending her gloved hand to the witch with a respectful bow of her head. Salem’s eyes trailed from Winter’s face, down over her sleek, white uniform, until it paused at her hand. 

To Winter’s surprise, the corner of the witch’s lips twitched into what could have only been described as a curious smile. Salem could hardly remember a time she’d last met with someone new who acted so unperturbed by her appearance; it was strangely refreshing.  
  
“What charming manners,” Salem observed aloud quietly, reaching to take Winter’s hand in a light shake. Winter ignored the way they were unexpectedly warm and strangely soft, instead trying to remember what it was those hands had done, and what they could still do. 

She was so focused, in fact, that she almost forgot to let go, squeezing Salem’s hand a little firmly in her own. As Winter felt Salem’s hand tug out of her hardening grip, she came crashing back into reality, hurriedly retracting her arms to fold them behind her back. 

Winter straightened her stance out of habit, giving off the true air of a trained Atlesian soldier. Salem’s expression had become neutral, though she seemed mildly interested by the woman’s air of dignity and the perceived confidence of her handshake.

“Come, join me,” Salem offered, gesturing towards the long, empty table in the meeting room. Winter moved towards one of the chairs, pausing behind it to glance across to where Salem had reached the miniature throne that was situated at the head of the table.  
  
Winter waited for Salem to be seated first, before pulling out her chair and joining her. Winter’s manners, once again, did not go unnoticed by Salem, who had previously endured meetings with demanding ruffians. Winter Schnee was quite a welcome change from the running theme she’d been dealing with today, and not just for her impeccable manners.  
  
Winter felt eyes on her, shifting slightly in her seat to meet Salem’s stare. When their gazes locked, Winter wasn’t sure how to proceed. Salem appeared to be in thought and the two were silent. Winter couldn’t look into the witch’s eyes for too long without the sensation of ice trickling down her spine making her shiver involuntarily. 

This was going to be harder than she thought, and that was saying something.

“The General has-” Winter started to speak exactly when Salem did, noticing the sudden smirk on the witch’s face from their poor timing. Heat rushed to Winter’s neck, growing hotter under her buttoned up collar, prompting her to clear her throat awkwardly.  
  
“You may continue,” Salem said after a moment, a flash of what appeared to be amusement in her eyes. Winter wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light, or maybe she just imagined it in her mind’s attempt to normalise what it was she was inevitably supposed to do.

How was she meant to guide the conversation towards anything other than what she was there for? Salem was no fool, from everything her superiors had told her, she would likely pick up on any forced attempt to create a more personal atmosphere. It wasn’t exactly commonplace for a total stranger to turn up at the great big scary castle and try to negotiate their way into Salem’s knickers - or at least Winter hoped it wasn’t. 

Not that she cared either way; not that she was even thinking about that kind of thing, because it wasn’t relevant to be pondering on the details of Salem’s sex life when she’d only just met her. And Winter certainly wasn’t thinking that far ahead-  
  
“Ah,” Winter stumbled, realising she’d been silently staring for the last minute or two. “I would prefer to hear what you wished to say first, ma’am,” she managed to save herself from looking like a fool. Salem seemed to be able to tell it was an attempt to cover whatever Winter had really been thinking about, but she took the opportunity to speak regardless.

“I have been led to believe that the General is willing to swear an oath of fealty, in exchange for Atlas’ safety,” Salem opened the conversation for them, her fingers laced together atop the table. 

Winter kept her face impassive. It was freaking her out to have prior knowledge of everything that was happening. If she said something wrong, if she gave away that this was a setup, she could be dead within seconds.  
  
“Yes, the General has set aside several terms for this arrangement, if you’d like to read them?” Winter responded carefully, reaching to retrieve a list from one of the pouches at her belt. She leaned forwards to offer it to Salem, only for the witch to give her a lingering look that made Winter’s heart jump into her throat. 

She couldn’t tell what the look meant; it was too hard to decipher.  
  
“Read them to me.” 

It was not a request. Winter, having been taking orders for the majority of her life, knew when to follow one without question. She swallowed her heart back down so she could inhale a steadying breath. Winter brought the list towards herself, casting a look to Salem, who’s eyes met hers where they'd been comfortably settled on her.  
  
Winter felt her ears burning from the way the witch was staring, quickly looking back at the list in her hands. The paper crumpled under her tight hold of it. Winter was thankful she’d managed to conquer her trembling fingers before they became visible.

“Under the official order of Atlas’ board member and military general, James Ironwood, a selected representative may present the following terms of agreement to the relevant party,” Winter read aloud, using her ‘officer’ voice often reserved for deploying soldiers under her command.  
  
Salem seemed to enjoy the sudden authoritative take, a dark eyebrow cocking with curiosity at the change in Winter’s demeanor once she was following a direct order. The subtle edge of nervousness Salem had sensed surrounding the woman dissipated in place of unwavering purpose. Clearly the specialist was in her element when she was doing as she was told.  
  
Winter continued to read the terms of the agreement, but Salem was finding herself more interested in the soldier than the contents of the list. She pressed her chin against the back of her laced hands, frowning as she took in everything about the woman that was strangely fascinating.  
  
There was something oddly familiar about her - the way Winter appeared to be driven by duty, the self-assured nature lingering underneath her wonderful politeness - where had she seen these traits? Why was it making her heart do strange things beneath the dark fabric of her dress?

Salem exhaled a thoughtful hum, tilting her head. The unexpected, alluring sound caught Winter off guard, and it was the first and only time she stuttered through her speech. Salem smirked from the tiny hint of shyness hidden underneath the soldier’s cool exterior. 

She was definitely interesting...far more so than the boring terms the General was proposing. Winter, to her credit, read the entire list without stopping. Once she was finished, she folded the paper neatly in half after smoothing the creases - something else Salem took notice of - then turned those lovely blue eyes towards the witch expectantly. 

After a moment, Salem sighed heavily, leaning back in her throne with a feigned look of disappointment. Winter looked slightly taken aback by the reaction.  
  
“Were there any terms you wished to discuss specifically?” Winter asked when the drawn out silence started to make her fidget in her seat.

“Yes,” Salem smiled politely, and Winter wasn’t sure if she was unnerved by it or disarmed by it, but what she did know was that it shouldn’t have looked as predatory as it did. Nor should she have appreciated the sight of it. “All of them.” 

~ **** ~

Everything had gone to plan for the rest of their lengthy meeting. Winter had managed to keep the conversation going, and although it remained strictly on business, Salem seemed to enjoy her company enough to converse with her as if they weren’t mortal enemies at war with each other. 

In fact, their exchange had been quite pleasant. Salem was eloquent in her demands, and Winter was able to negotiate well within the parameters Ironwood and Ozpin had set for her. Of course, the mission was always meant to involve a follow-up meeting, though Winter had hoped to make better progress during the first. What Winter did notice was how her unease around Salem hadn’t been strong enough to deter her from a flowing, captivating discussion with the witch. They spoke well to one another, and Salem had been unusually forthcoming. 

Regardless of the slow progress, Ozpin seemed pleased with their initial meeting. He told Winter that Ironwood had already arranged their second meeting and that Salem had asked after the specialist to ensure she would be the representative again. According to Ozpin, that was a good sign that Salem was interested in Winter to some extent, though to what end remained unknown.

The back and forth between the General and Salem had led to an apparent change in tone - one that Ozpin was happy to inform when Winter was briefed on the plan for the second meeting. 

Though she knew it was necessary in order to proceed, Winter wasn’t happy. She’d been ordered by the General to keep her comm channel open for the duration of the meeting so they could listen to the exchange. This would allow Ozpin the chance to hear for himself if he considered Salem’s interest in Winter to be on the path they needed, or something entirely more sinister, and dangerous.

Winter felt as if she were being, as her sister’s friends would likely refer to it, ‘pimped out’, and she was irritated by Ironwood’s adamance that she used the earpiece. Did they not trust that Winter was capable of proceeding without their input? Did they doubt she’d fully taken in everything Ozpin had told her about Salem?

It was absurd and frustrating. More so to discover Winter was actually looking forward to seeing the witch again. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. It had been easier when she was appalled by the idea of seducing Salem. Now matters were complicated by her own foolish emotions and the strange desire she felt for the frighteningly beautiful woman to look at her in a way nobody else ever had.

This time, when Winter arrived at the castle, the doors were already open, waiting for her. Exiting the airship, Winter headed towards the entrance, peering inside to look for any sign of Hazel. Instead she was met by a wild-eyed faunus with his hair in a braid, grinning madly as she cautiously approached the open doors.  
  
“Oh, my!” the man gasped dramatically at the sight of her, placing a hand on his heart as his eyes drifted over her in a highly inappropriate fashion. Winter had to grit her teeth to resist telling him to keep his wandering gaze to himself, hearing Ironwood down the earpiece explaining that this man was Tyrian Callows, a notorious murderer.  
  
“What a _beautiful_ snowflake. I see now why our divine Goddess has taken a liking to you,” he chuckled excitedly, his scorpion tail swishing from side to side as he brought his hands together with delight. Winter forced herself to keep an impassive face, lifting her head slightly to jut her chin out and give off an unphased attitude.  
  
 _‘According to Oz, Tyrian is unhealthily obsessed with Salem. He’s just trying to throw you off,’_ Ironwood said in her ear, prompting Winter to take a deep breath.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said with a tight-lipped smile.  
  
“No, no, I would remember if we had, with eyes like those,” Tyrian giggled. Said eyes narrowed as Winter fought to keep her cool. “Our mighty saviour will surely get lost in such captivating hues, oh I’m certain of it,” he prattled on eagerly before he turned to look behind him from the sound of approaching footsteps. While he was distracted, Winter brought a hand to her ear.

“Permission to engage in direct combat, sir?” she muttered under her breath.  
  
 _‘Denied. Winter, please focus,’_ Ironwood responded. 

She dropped her hand away in time to see Arthur Watts making an appearance.  
  
 _Great, just the man I was hoping to see,_ Winter thought sarcastically. She was well aware of who he was, having met him on occasion while he was visiting the Schnee Manor.  
  
“Well if it isn’t the eldest daughter of dear old Jacques. It has been a while,” Watts said with a smarmy smile.  
  
“Arthur,” Winter responded coolly, wishing she could just walk straight through the castle and avoid both of the men for the rest of her life.  
  
“When our Queen mentioned she was expecting company I had no idea _you_ were the company she was referring to. What a small world, eh?”  
  
“Perhaps too small,” Winter said stiffly, hearing Ironwood scold her down her earpiece for the sass. Arthur didn’t seem to mind it half as much as James did, chuckling from her sharp wit. Tyrian was laughing a little too hard at it, the sound grating on Winter’s nerves.  
  
“That snarky attitude is to be expected. After all, you are still a Schnee,” Arthur said with a grin. Winter felt herself bristle, clenching her hand into a fist. Thankfully Hazel was hurrying towards them, his timely intervention saving the entire operation. Had he been a second too late, Winter would have given Arthur a piece of her mind with her fist doing the talking.

“With me,” he said to Winter over the two men, motioning with his head to signal that she follow.  
  
“It was simply wonderful meeting you, snowflake!” Tyrian called after her as she briskly walked after Hazel, relieved to get away from the nightmarish duo.

“Where are we going?” Winter asked after a while when they passed by the meeting room from last time. Hazel didn’t answer, leading her deeper inside the castle until Winter lost track of the corridors’ twists and turns, no longer confident she could find her way back the way they came without guidance.  
  
“Wait here,” Hazel finally said once they reached an empty archway. It appeared to lead into an open room with gothic decor. Winter could spy a central lit fireplace lined with bookshelves full of old tomes and strange trinkets. Hazel strode through the archway and out of sight. Winter strained to listen once she heard the rumble of Hazel’s voice and a familiar, softer tone accompanying it. He was talking with Salem but they were too far inside the room for Winter to hear anything of value.  
  
 _‘Kiss her hand when you greet her. Oz says she appreciates chivalry,’_ Ironwood ordered down her ear, startling Winter who had momentarily forgotten the comm channel was open.  
  
“General, you’re not serious?” Winter whispered under her breath, turning her face away from the archway in case Hazel returned, hating the way her cheeks were suddenly uncomfortably warm.  
  
 _‘Winter, the outcome of this mission’s success will determine the future of Remnant. Remember why you’re here,’_ Ironwood said. Winter wanted to tell him he could shove his mission, instead came an exasperated sigh.

“Go on in,” Hazel said as he came back, once again at the perfect moment, sticking his thumb over his shoulder towards the open living room. 

Winter managed a tense smile as he walked off, staring nervously at the archway. It was strangely unsettling to learn that Salem had ‘normal’ rooms inside the castle. Winter knew if she lingered too long the witch might grow suspicious, so she quickly stepped through the archway and into the decorated expanse. 

Her eyes were immediately drawn to where Salem was standing with her back to her, leaning over a mahogany desk, writing something, if the scratching of a quill was any indication. Winter couldn’t stop her gaze drifting down the witch; the way her dress hugged her figure was almost criminal. Winter found herself ogling the witch’s body, her delicate waist looked perfect for Winter to place her hands on...and the thought sent a wholly unwelcome _tug_ at her insides. _What are you thinking?_ Winter lifted her eyes off where they’d settled at Salem’s shapely backside, just in time. 

Salem turned to greet her with a small smile.

Salem’s dress was slightly different this time around. Her shoulders were bare, showing off the witch’s pale, veiny skin. Worse still, was the exposure of her cleavage, left tormentingly on display, testing Winter’s self-control. If staring at Salem had been impossible to resist before, Winter felt as if the gods must have been enjoying the stunned look on her face now. She managed not to drop her eyes to the teasing edge of Salem’s plentiful breasts she could see brushing beneath black silk. 

The soldier’s evident appreciation for Salem’s attire prompted a subtle smirk to appear upon the witch’s face, but it granted her the opportunity to give Winter a once over in return. The specialist was still wearing her uniform from last time, though Salem saw she had forgone a few additions, such as the restrictive utility belt, and the suffocating tie. Without the belt in the way, dark eyes could linger on where Winter had tucked her blouse into her pants in an attempt to keep herself looking tidy and presentable. 

Salem briefly pondered on how pleasant it would be to tug the shirt free from its containment and snake her hands under it. The sinful thought was not the first of such a nature since Salem had met Winter...nor would it be the last. Salem was curious if she would find taut muscles beneath the blouse; she was a soldier, likely in peak physical condition. 

Salem’s mind fell down the rabbit hole, a memory of Ozma hurtling back into her head faster than she could force it away. He had been shy, the first time she took off his armour to see what was underneath. She could still recall the way his face had flushed with warmth - how he had avoided her eyes and given her one of his beautiful soft smiles. Would Winter be shy too? Would her confidence hold true in such a situation, or, like her long lost lover, would she melt under the touch of Salem’s exploring hands?

Unsure how she felt about the old memory resurfacing, Salem looked away from Winter, distracted with pushing the thoughts back into the deepest depths of her shattered heart. Winter, oblivious to Salem’s inner struggle with her thoughts, suddenly recalled the General’s order, her heart plummeting into her stomach.

“Winter, thank you for agreeing to meet with me again,” the witch eventually said, taking a slow step closer to where Winter was rooted to the spot, meeting her eyes.  
  
“Thank you for the invitation, ma’am,” Winter politely replied with a subtle smile. 

_Well, it’s now or never. If I die I hope nobody learns of the cause_. 

With a surge of forced confidence, Winter reached to take Salem’s hand in hers, lifting it slightly as she ducked her head to place a gentle, quick kiss to the back of the witch’s hand. The soldier’s fringe fell forwards, tickling Salem’s hand, prompting the witch to let out a combination of a surprised gasp and an involuntary giggle from the sensation.  
  
Winter felt her stomach leap strangely from the sound, glancing up to see Salem staring at her with a look of respect for her courage and mild embarrassment at the noise that had come out of her. Winter hadn’t expected such a reaction. Salem, still stuck on unwelcome, lingering thoughts of Ozma, hadn’t expected the gesture either. Releasing Salem’s hand, Winter straightened, folding her arms behind her back. Salem seemed shaken by the unexpected chivalry, turning her face away from Winter to hide the unusual pink tint on her pale cheeks.  
  
 _‘Good. Talk to her, be confident,’_ Ironwood prompted quietly. Winter wished she could turn the channel off and tell him to let her do this on her own.  
  
“I wasn’t expecting to be brought to such a place,” Winter said, taking the opportunity to admire the ancient paintings hanging on the walls. “It’s beautiful,” she finished with sincerity.

“This is where I retire to work with some semblance of peace and quiet,” Salem revealed, placing her hands together in front of her as she looked over at Winter. “You met Tyrian and Doctor Watts, did you not?”  
  
It was Winter’s turn to be taken aback, but she managed to cover up her surprise at the question. Now she knew what Hazel had been discussing with Salem before she was permitted to enter. Still, Winter had been so sure that Salem would immediately push the conversation onto what they were here for - to finalise the ‘terms’ of James’ oath of fealty to her.

“I did,” Winter confirmed with an impassive tone.  
  
“Then you will understand why such a room is necessary from time to time,” A flicker of mirth danced in Salem’s eyes. Under the dim light of the fireplace Winter was drawn to the way they sparkled like a dark, dying star. Thinking back on how tiresome Tyrian’s company had been in the short duration she had endured, Winter exhaled a breath of amusement.

“I find I also work better in solitude,” she offered after a thoughtful pause, taking a step towards the crackling fireplace to admire the small grimm sculptures atop the mantelpiece. 

“Is that so?” Salem sounded curious. Winter shouldn’t have felt pride to learn the witch was interested to hear more about her in a personal sense, but pride she felt regardless. “Surely you must spend most of your time in the company of your colleagues?”

“Yes, of course,” Winter met Salem’s eyes, “but that doesn’t mean I prefer their company to that of my own.” Salem smiled, a slow curl of her lips that indicated agreement.

Salem was about to speak, when she paused, noticing Winter had hurriedly reached to rub the side of her face, fingers tucking her hair behind her ear. An eyebrow rose, but Winter’s hand dropped away before Salem could think more of the sudden movement, though the witch had an idea of what it may have indicated.

“I must confess, I have been rather looking forward to indulging in your company again.” Salem’s smile was charming, despite how it darkened with something... _else_. Winter may not have engaged in intimacy with another for a very long time, but she was no stranger to what that look meant. Somehow the confirmation that Salem felt something other than disinterest for her gave Winter the confidence she needed to press on.

“I’ve been anticipating our next meeting as well,” she said quietly, turning her face away from Salem, standing in front of the fireplace. 

Salem watched the shadows of the fire flickering across Winter’s pretty features, her hair giving off a soft glow under the embers’ light. She was truly a sight to behold, even without trying to capture Salem’s attention she succeeded in doing so near effortlessly.

“Certainly an... _interesting_ choice of words,” Winter’s shoulders seemed to tense at the witch’s observation. Salem continued before Winter could answer, “you are welcome to make yourself more comfortable.” She gestured with her hand towards the unloved, old armchairs in one corner of the open room. Winter, however, seemed transfixed on the fire, as if she was thinking deeply about something.  
  
“Thank you for your hospitality, but I would prefer to stand,” Winter declined with a tilt of her head in silent apology for her rejection of the offer. Salem’s eyebrows rose, fascinated by Winter’s decision. Was it intentional of her to not simply take Salem’s suggestion as an order? Was Winter perhaps testing the water to see what she could get away with?

“Very well,” Salem slowly approached the fireplace, closing the spacious distance between them, “then I shall join you.” The move was intentional of course, giving away part of Salem’s hand as she played her cards.  
  
“I would like that,” Winter replied, and, much to her discomfort, she found it was not just a lie to accomplish her duty. The specialist was uncertain if she should be concerned about the strange reactions she experienced whenever she felt Salem’s eyes on her.  
  
 _You’re here to complete your mission with as few complications as possible. Don’t let it become personal and don’t forget who it is that you’re talking to. Salem is still-_

“Oh,” came a gentle exhale from the witch, pulling Winter out of her thoughts. She glanced towards where the woman was staring at her and their eyes met.  
  
“Ma’am?” Winter allowed a touch of concern to arise in her tone when Salem continued to gaze at her. There was something different in the way she stared. Salem’s expression was soft, and while she seemed somewhat enamored, she also looked as if she’d seen a ghost.  
  
“Forgive me,” Salem shook her head, trying to regain some composure. Winter frowned, imaginary soldiers starting a forward march of anxiety through her stomach. “For a moment you looked like... It was simply a trick of the light, nothing more.”

“Are you alright?” Winter found herself asking without hesitation, turning to face Salem. 

Salem blinked at her from the question, and a strange rushing feeling swept through her chest. When was the last time anyone asked her that? It was such a simple question and yet...she couldn’t recall. She was rarely treated as an equal, and while Salem enjoyed the superiority her cruel, painful immortality granted her, it was...quite wonderful to be treated like a human again.  
  
“Your concern is appreciated, but yes, I’m fine,” she murmured, and when she smiled this time Winter knew she was in trouble. It dawned on Salem then, that Winter’s kindness, while subtle in its execution, was just another trait she shared with her lost lover.  
  
She barely knew the soldier on a personal level, at least not yet, but the inexplicable pull was there, just as it had been all those lifetimes ago. A soul of honour and dignity, with bravery and courage...kindness, good manners and such beauty. Salem might have thought the similarities were too noticeable to be mere coincidence, but Winter drew her away from her contemplation with a simple movement that should not have ignited the reaction it did.  
  
The specialist’s fingers had risen to dip into the collar of her blouse and pull the fabric away from herself to cool off. Winter exhaled a sigh, craning her neck, prompting Salem’s eyes to dart over the creamy white of her skin. The witch felt an old familiar feeling settle low in her body.  
  
“May I?” Winter asked, motioning to her coat. Salem looked up from the soldier’s delectable neck to meet her gaze, trying to read the impassive look on her face. Without a word, Salem waved her wrist to grant permission with a silent ‘go ahead’.  
  
Winter began to pull her arms free of her elegant outer layer, finding an offered hand from the witch to hold it for her while she re-adjusted her clothing. Winter presented the coat to Salem with an appreciative, small smile, before she got to work pulling off her gloves next, which Salem also reached to take for her. Once her fingers were free, Winter tucked them beneath her sleeve, flicking open the tiny button so that she could fold it up to her elbow on one arm and then the other. Finally, Winter reached for her collar, slowly popping open several of the top buttons with a relieved, drawn out sigh.  
  
She’d begun to overheat with Salem’s hungry stares on her earlier, with the warmth of the fireplace helping none. It was then that Winter decided to take a risk and perhaps entice Salem with a show of removing some clothing. From the way Salem’s glowing eyes were stuck on her, Winter considered it a success.  
  
“That’s better,” she said, feeling a surge of confidence to have the witch’s unwavering interest. Winter had never tried to seduce someone before in her life, and while it felt strange at first, there was something exhilarating about earning Salem’s undivided attention. 

Winter reached to retrieve her gloves and coat when Salem silently held them out for her, dark eyes unsure where they wanted to look first. Crimson irises shot from Winter’s face down to her surprisingly delicate hands, which had brushed against her own at the exchange of the specialist’s coat. Then they were roaming freely over Winter’s arms, travelling on a fast upward journey to the woman’s now partially open blouse teasing a peek of milky white collarbone. 

Salem was captivated by Winter’s clever, subtle act of seduction. She was not oblivious to the intention, but Salem found she could hardly retaliate with an act of her own, given the way her mind was still distracted by the fact Winter had succeeded at garnering her interest. It was not something done lightly, nor an accomplishment any other than Ozma himself could claim, once upon a time.  
  
“It’s hot in here,” Winter noted under her breath, her confidence melting under the intensity of Salem’s staring. When the witch’s tongue flicked over her lips to wet them, Winter felt her face burn warmer than any other part of her.  
  
“No thanks to the fireplace,” Salem murmured, her voice low. The heat rushed faster to Winter’s face from the undeniable attraction the witch had for her, confirmed by such a passing remark. “There is, unfortunately, only a _single_ layer that I may remove, should I grow too warm in my attire,” Salem continued. 

A delicious smirk curled at the corners of her mouth when Winter cleared her throat to mask the noise that had left her from the thought of Salem taking her dress off. Winter, having felt self-assured in her seduction only moments prior, suddenly seemed to realise that she was out of her depth when it came to flirtatious endeavours with the witch. 

Ozpin had been careful to remind her during their intel exchange of how gifted Salem was when it came to sexual desires. She had a way of making you crave her far more than any other. The conversation had made for some awkward tension, but Winter was at least glad of the warning, considering the way things were proceeding. 

For the first time since agreeing to the ridiculous mission, Winter realised that the possibility of it actually working was slowly becoming reality. The pressure of such an outcome got to her, and the shy side Winter rarely allowed to surface, appeared quicker than a flash of lightning.

“That’s…” Winter stammered uselessly, her brain breaking from the visual of Salem slowly peeling her dress open. She imagined the witch running veined hands teasingly atop her own breasts...showing Winter what she was being granted permission to fondle if she so desired.  
  
“What’s this? The well-spoken specialist stunned into silence before my very eyes?” Salem breathed, her smug smirk widening into a grin. “How unexpected,” she mocked in a whisper, her eyes flashing with desire. 

Winter felt a dangerous combination of humiliation and arousal hit her from the witch’s comment. No, this wasn’t right, she was supposed to be the one seducing Salem not the other way around! Winter’s voice was refusing to cooperate, as if some part of her was curious to see what Salem would do now that she was being submissive.

Salem stepped into her personal space, something Winter would usually disapprove of; no such protest followed. Her eyes drifted down to watch the witch’s arm rise towards her. When Salem’s hand pressed gently against her face, her thumb delicately brushing aside the specialist’s thick fringe, Winter’s eyes grew half-lidded and she exhaled the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. Her heart sky-rocketed through her chest when warm fingers began to caress her jawline, teasing yet purposeful on their journey to her chin.

Salem tilted Winter’s face up slowly and their eyes met, tension crackling more fiercely than the flames inside the fireplace. Winter knew Salem was going to kiss her, but what unnerved her the most was how much she wanted her to. Her heart leapt with excitement as she saw Salem leaning down, their lips inches apart...this was it.

 _It was working._  
  
“Ma’am,” came a gruff voice from the open archway, prompting Winter to flinch out of Salem’s grip, taking an almost comically large step away from her. Salem might have chuckled at the sight, had she not been so furious at the interruption.  
  
“What is it?” she hissed, turning to level a glare at Hazel that Winter knew she should not have found sexy. Winter brought a hand to her face to cover her embarrassment. Hazel looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him, but considering if Salem became any angrier that’s exactly what would happen, he seemed to remember to speak.  
  
“There’s a problem that needs your attention,” Hazel mumbled, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. Salem’s glare flashed dangerously and Winter stopped bothering to deny how incredibly hot she found it.  
  
“Can’t it wait?” Salem grit out through clenched teeth and Winter might have laughed if she didn’t also want to cry from frustration of her own. Hazel had been doing so well with his interventions earlier...but this was a disaster. The moment had passed and it might not return for some time.  
  
“I’m sorry, ma’am, it’s urgent,” Hazel sheepishly said. Winter bit her lip when Salem let out a flustered, irritated groan that shot straight between the specialist’s legs.  
  
“Fine,” Salem seethed, waving her arm to shoo Hazel off. He took the hint and hurried away, relieved to have gotten away without a scratch for the time being. “I apologise for such atrocious timing,” Salem sighed tiredly, her attention returning to the operative and the unacceptably large gap that was now between them. 

She was looking at Winter as if she wanted to devour her whole, and was still frightfully annoyed at being denied the chance. At such a sight, Winter understood how badly Salem had wanted to continue, just as much as she secretly did. It served to remind Winter that while Hazel might have ruined the moment, she was still accomplishing her mission and doing her duty.  
  
“It’s not a problem, but we have yet to finalize the terms of the General’s oath,” Winter quietly reminded.  
  
“Then we must continue this at a later date. When will I see you again?” Salem asked with barely contained yearning for such an eventuality. She took a confident stride to close the distance between them, reaching to caress Winter’s cheek, clearly incapable of keeping her hands to herself for very long. 

Winter felt her stomach somersault at the question and what unspoken confirmation it presented.  
  
They were to meet once more.  
  


  
~ **** ~

When Winter had given her report of the second meeting, Ironwood had lectured her about how she had dropped the connection over the comm channel far too early. Winter claimed the connection had been poor, but they both knew the truth was that Ironwood’s running commentary had been throwing the specialist off and she’d chosen to take matters into her own hands.  
  
Ozpin had intervened to point out that regardless of how the connection dropped, Winter had been successful in her attempts to attract Salem and he was positive that their next meeting would lead to the outcome they were all hoping for. Winter had tried not to feel too pleased about that, convincing herself that her pride was due to the success of her mission and nothing else.

Several weeks passed before Ironwood contacted her to confirm a third meeting had been arranged. Over that time Winter had found herself battling with a longing for Salem that she kept to herself. Dreams of the witch’s lips on her skin, nipping and kissing her in places nobody but herself had ventured to, had left Winter a tightly wound ball of sexual tension that may or may not work in her favour.  
  
It was with relief that Winter began her preparation for their third and perhaps final meeting. She listened to Ironwood’s orders over the mission debrief channel as the airship began its long flight to the castle. Salem had explicitly stated that Winter was to come alone again, and that the specialist should wear something ‘fit for a relaxing evening’. The request was obvious in its meaning - Salem was indirectly asking her on a date. Somehow the thought of it being a date and not another ‘meeting’ brought out the nerves in Winter. 

She paced back and forth inside the airship looking down at her outfit to determine if it would be enough to entice Salem. She’d gone for a simple navy blue waistcoat atop a crisp, white shirt, with fitted pants and shiny black boots. She certainly looked smart and cleaned up well. Her hair was pulled back into a slightly more casual ponytail than her usual tight bun, to contrast with the formal outfit she was wearing and make herself appear more approachable and soften her edges.  
  
Winter felt ridiculous for being so nervous. It wasn’t as if it was a real date, given the fact that it had been set up and manipulated by her superiors for the very purpose of bedding Salem. That was another worry for the specialist now that things had truly taken to that course. 

Winter was supposed to be impressive enough in the bedroom that Salem would wish to pursue more, and agree to cease her attacks on Atlas, and if they were really lucky, Remnant. The problem with that, was Winter had not slept with anyone since before she was granted her role in the military. She’d explored her own body on several stressful, sleepless nights...but to touch another person in that way? She was a novice - not even that. And then there was the thought of actually having intercourse with _Salem_ , of all people.

Those deep red eyes burning into her sky blue, the sound of Salem’s voice moaning her name in the throes of passion, their hips meeting in tandem...harder and faster... 

Winter covered her face, trying to dispel the shameful vision from her mind and how badly she craved such a reality. She hadn’t admitted it to anyone, but Winter was rather taken by the powerful, alluring woman. For all Salem’s atrocities, Winter couldn’t deny the way she gravitated towards her, as if it were against her will. That was something the General or Ozpin could not force for the mission. That was all on her. 

Ironwood’s voice startled her out of her gay panic.

“Please keep the channel open slightly longer this time,” the General said, causing Winter to frown and roll her eyes. She’d tried to convince him that she didn’t need the channel this time, and that it would only distract her, but Ironwood insisted it was necessary for at least the initial exchange.  
  
Winter was irritated by the intrusion, having wanted to experience the evening with Salem alone, but trying to explain that had resulted in the General getting suspicious of her feelings. Too proud to confess that she was looking forward to the date, Winter had begrudgingly agreed to use the earpiece, at least at first.

As the airship approached the castle both far too slowly and far too quickly for Winter’s liking, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to flee as far away as possible, or run through the castle corridors in desperate search of the woman who had captured her rare interest. Winter noticed the airship begin its descent to a different LZ, peering out through the windows to check if the pilot was misguided. Once the ship lowered towards the new LZ point, Winter felt her eyes widen - the pilot had not made a mistake.

Salem had arranged for her to arrive near what appeared to be the rear end of the castle, positioned over extravagant, lush gardens, usually hidden away by the flocking grimm creatures and surrounding darkness. Winter only caught a quick flash of the beautiful flowery expanse before the ship’s descent was too low, and it was hidden from view once more. 

Exiting the vessel with a shake to her legs, Winter smoothed the creases out of her waistcoat, checked her hair in the reflection of the airship window, before thanking the pilot and striding up the stairs towards a single wooden door leading inside the castle.

As soon as Winter drew closer, the door opened for her, revealing Hazel, dressed like a butler, holding a tray with a flute glass on it, a single rose, and a note. Winter couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh from the sight of Hazel’s attire, lifting her hand to catch the sound, surprised at herself by how easily it had slipped past her barriers.  
  
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh,” Winter managed to apologise with strained composure, biting her lip to stifle another chuckle when Hazel sighed.  
  
“It’s fine. You’re looking at my punishment for last time,” Hazel explained before he bent forward to present the tray to Winter. “Here.”

Winter, slightly embarrassed to accept the romantic presentation in front of Hazel, reached first to take the note. She flipped the small, black card open to read in silver, slanted writing: 

_‘Tonight we dine with no interruption, away from Remnant’s watchful eye. Should you wish to accept my invitation, I graciously await your presence in the gardens. - S’_

Winter felt her heart hammer against her rib cage, leaving her breathless. She tucked the card into the pocket at her waistcoat before reaching for the red rose, pricking her finger against one of the thorns. She exhaled a hiss, pulling her hand back to shake off the stinging sensation.  
  
“Careful,” Hazel said, but Winter didn’t seem to mind, taking the rose between her fingers on her second attempt, to admire its beauty. 

It was strangely fitting; Salem was both petal and thorn to Winter.

“Champagne?” The specialist commented with a raised eyebrow, reaching for the glass with her free hand.  
  
“She said you might be nervous. I suggested bringing it to you at the door to help with that,” Hazel smirked when Winter’s face darkened with a blush at Salem’s perceptive take.  
  
“She really has gone all out,” Winter murmured, taking a sip of the bubbly liquid, taking note of Hazel’s knowing smile. He turned to head through the open door and Winter, as before, followed him through the castle.  
  
They were on a lower level Winter had never seen before. It was far more welcoming than the upper levels, and could almost pass for an ancient manor one might find in the high class areas of Atlas. It looked as if it had been abandoned, layers of dust gathered over old family portraits, obscuring them from view. Hazel led her through to a large courtyard that opened onto the gardens she had caught a glimpse of on her arrival.  
  
“This part of the castle is hidden from view at all times. We’re not permitted to enter. Only she spends time in this place,” Hazel explained, noticing Winter’s amazement at the beautiful tiles across the courtyard.  
  
“It’s incredible,” Winter murmured, taking several steps forward without Hazel’s guidance, eager to see what the large statues in the middle of the courtyard were.  
  
“It’s unusual for her to invite someone down here. She must think highly of you,” Hazel continued.

 _‘Excellent, that’s exactly what we-’_ Ironwood’s pleased voice broke the surprised silence and Winter quickly spoke over him.  
  
“The feeling is mutual, believe me,” Winter hurried to say, if only to drown out Ironwood’s commentary spoiling the gravity of the revelation. Hazel looked a bit surprised by her sudden raised volume and awkward smile, but nodded in understanding, taking it as Winter being nervous.

“She’s through there, when you’re ready,” Hazel said, before motioning ahead. He turned to walk through the large courtyard, towards the entrance to the gardens.

Winter walked out across the courtyard, her heeled boots clicking over the stone beneath her feet, until she came to a halt, eliciting a gasp as blue eyes rose to settle upon the statues.  
  
 _‘What is it? What’s wrong?’_  
  
Winter ignored Ironwood, staring at the intimidating statue of Salem, her hands extended in a powerful stance, her hair flowing free from its bun. Beside her was a man with short, layered hair in an extravagant suit, and the two statues were clearly a pair.  
  
 _Then that must be…_ Winter thought, staring at the well-dressed man and his noble stature. The statues were cracked in places, as if they had been brought back to life after crumbling to pieces. It gave them an almost eerie, broken look. For Salem to have kept them, such a bold reminder of her old life - perhaps there was something left of her underneath that still craved companionship.  
  
Winter brought her hand to her ear, “it’s nothing, sir,” she answered under her breath, tearing her eyes away from Salem and Ozma. 

She made her way across the courtyard towards where Hazel had disappeared to. Once more, Winter was stunned by the beauty of the castle grounds, such a gorgeous secret hidden beneath a horribly frightening visage above. The gardens were lined with flowers, some wilting without the sunlight they needed, others blooming despite the dark around them. Tall, thin lamps lit the different pathways, granting a measure of light in the endless night.

Winter wasn’t sure which way to go, so she ventured forward down one path, feeling as if she were a little girl again adventuring in the garden of the Schnee Manor. That was a time before she hated that place...when innocence was ignorance, and ignorance was bliss. Winter walked for a short while, pausing by a beautiful fountain, perching on the edge of it to rest, taking another sip of her champagne.  
  
“There you are,” came a familiar, soft voice from behind her.

Winter almost fell in the fountain she straightened up so fast, spinning on her heel to capture the sight of her impatient date.

Salem was the picture of elegance. The witch was wearing a loose, sleeveless black robe cut into two conjoining pieces of fabric held together by a thick, deep red belt. The upper half of the robe left little to the imagination, granting a clearer view of Salem’s cleavage, something she seemed to enjoy showing off. Winter’s eyes trailed over the veins snaking over Salem’s shoulders and down her uncovered arms, captivated by her beauty and grace.  
  
“I was beginning to think you had declined my invitation,” Salem spoke again, stirring Winter from her lovestruck stupor.  
  
“I must have taken a wrong turn,” Winter smiled apologetically. 

Salem slowly eyed Winter’s dashing attire.  
  
“Don’t you look the part,” she murmured with clear approval. Winter dipped her head forward slightly, her hair falling over most of her face to hide the warmth rushing to it.  
  
“Thank you, you’re…you look,” Winter’s head lifted again to take in the witch in all of her magnificence. “Breathtaking,” Winter aptly settled upon as hers was taken away by the woman before her. Salem merely smiled, satisfied with the compliment.

“Allow me to lead the way,” she suggested, offering her arm to Winter. Winter hurriedly took the rose between her fingers in the same hand as her glass, stepping forward to lace her arm through Salem’s.

“I feel as if I should be the one leading us,” Winter attempted to joke, looking down at their attire. Salem let out a faint chuckle from the observation, amused by the old fashioned approach. Hazel had been right to suggest the champagne at the door. While it clearly hadn’t taken away all of Winter’s nerves, it had done the job of easing them enough to allow her to converse, Salem noted.  
  
“The night is still young, specialist. Perhaps you might be afforded the opportunity yet,” Salem smirked, feeling Winter’s grip of her arm squeeze down slightly at the teasing remark.  
  
They made the rest of the journey in relative silence, though it was comfortable, and afforded them both a chance to contemplate on where the evening might take them. Winter wanted to mention Salem’s efforts for the date, still unsure if she found it slightly over the top or was flattered by the show of affection in each detail. She decided against commenting yet, but once Salem led them towards their waiting table, set with a sleek, black cloth and antique, fancy looking china dishes, framed by a lit purple candle, Winter almost had to.

Salem released their linked arms to move forwards first, resisting the urge to glare at Hazel, for failing to bring Winter to her, where he was waiting patiently not far from the table.  
  
“Hazel, you may leave us,” Salem dismissed with a wave of her hand. He bowed his head before taking a walk through the gardens, granting the women privacy, or, _almost_ privacy.

“This is, uh,” Winter struggled, hearing Ironwood mumbling some sort of suggestion down her ear that made her nearly forget not to scowl. Salem turned back to look curiously at Winter, who managed to turn the expression into a tense smile. “This is...unexpected.”

“Is it too much?” Salem seemed uncertain, though her delivery of the question was hard to read. 

Winter waved her empty hand hurriedly.  
  
“No, no,” she stepped a bit closer towards the waiting table. “What I meant was, I appreciate the steps you’ve taken to make this a…” Winter felt warm around her collar, wishing she’d worn something a bit less suffocating. “A memorable evening,” she finished with a subtle smile, much less strained than the other.  
  
Salem said nothing but returned the smile, but Winter thought she saw a flicker of something behind the witch’s eyes. She reached to pluck the rose from Winter’s fingers, dipping it into a waiting, thin vase atop the table. Winter was admittedly impressed by the witch’s meticulous planning and the efforts she had made.

Winter quickly stepped forwards to pull one of the chairs out for Salem. She seemed mildly surprised by the gesture, her unreadable smile from earlier relaxing into a softer variation as she thanked the specialist for her impeccable manners, as always, before taking a seat. Winter sat at her spot opposite the witch, taking a large gulp of champagne to try and ease more of her returning nerves. 

It wasn’t like her to be overwhelmed by her emotions, but there were many of them screaming to escape all at once. The chaos of their liberation would surely steer the date down the road to disaster. The specialist did what she did best, and worked hard to contain herself, working harder to block out Ironwood’s incessant rambling in her ear that was starting to drive her crazy.

After a quick discussion on what they’d like to eat, Salem showed off her magic by conjuring the food out of thin air. She proceeded to pour them both more champagne, before conversation flowed between them naturally while they dined. Once they’d finished eating, Winter complimented the food, and although the date was going well, it still felt quite formal. 

Glancing across the table at Salem, Winter caught herself staring when the witch started to lick the cream off her fingers from their dessert. What Winter wouldn’t give to have Salem do the same to her fingers, which were currently shaking under a napkin she was using to wipe the cream off. Her mind went straight to the gutter and decided it was staying there indefinitely. She couldn’t take her eyes off Salem’s tongue, sliding over her digits to lick up the white, sticky substance-

“I wasn’t certain that you would come tonight,” Salem confessed after she was finished. Winter almost choked on a poorly timed sip of her champagne. She let out a spluttering cough, lightly tapping her fist against her chest to clear away the inhaled alcohol. Salem tried to hide a smirk behind her hand but failed miserably, only adding to Winter’s humiliation. 

_She doesn’t mean it like that, you fool! What is wrong with you?_

Winter’s face started to burn. She couldn’t stop hearing Salem’s voice, telling her she could come tonight in an entirely different context; cleaning those fingers after having Winter for dessert.

_‘This is going excellently, she’s opening up to you-’_

“I want to come,” Winter said over the top of the General’s unexpected commentary, wincing at what flew out of her mouth to shut down her own brain and Ironwood’s unwelcome interference. Salem stared at Winter with a mixture of confusion and amusement from her slight outburst. Winter coughed lightly again, her face practically on fire. “I _wanted_ to come,” she attempted to correct, turning her face to the side, using her hair to hide. Salem let out a soft chuckle from the poor soldier’s difficulty relaxing all of a sudden. Had Salem’s teasing retaliation for Winter’s ‘coat’ maneuver, really affected her that badly? Salem made a note of that for later.  
  
“Winter, are you feeling alright?” Salem asked with feigned innocence. Winter’s eyes drifted down from Salem’s glowing red orbs to the valley of her breasts, proudly on display, pushed forward from the way Salem was leaning over the table.

That _had_ to be on purpose. Winter swallowed thickly. 

“I...I’ve got a lot on my mind,” she mumbled, failing to avert her gaze in time.

 _My eyes are up here,_ Salem thought with a pleased smirk. “I can see that.”

Winter took a long, deep breath, sliding her glass out of the way so she could see Salem completely, focusing her eyes where they should have been - which was locked with Salem’s. “I’m sorry, can we start this conversation over?” she asked, in a hopeful, exasperated tone.  
  
“I suppose,” Salem agreed, “but on one condition.” Before Winter could ask that she name it, Salem reached across the table to place a warm palm against Winter’s cheek. The specialist felt her insides turn to mush at the sudden contact, and she had to resist nuzzling into Salem’s touch. As Salem expected, Winter was too distracted to notice what she was doing.

“I had hoped we might _finally_ be alone,” the witch said, pulling her hand away with the earpiece held between her nails. Winter felt as if she’d fallen into a pool of ice cold water. Her face paled and she could hear Ironwood’s urgent, muffled voice coming from the earpiece.  
  
“If you’re going to attempt to seduce me, special operative Schnee, I would prefer it to be between us,” Salem continued with a sly smile, crushing the earpiece under her fingers, throwing the broken device over her shoulder.

Winter wasn’t sure if she should run, confess or lie. She had no orders, and no idea what action to take. Her only comfort was the sparkling amusement in Salem’s dark eyes; a welcome sight where anger could have been.

“You know?” Winter weakly asked, her voice breathless from shock.

“Of course I know. Do you take me for a fool, girl?” Salem countered, and her smile began to lessen. Winter felt her heart skip a beat at the dangerous territory they were venturing into. This was new ground, if she made one wrong move… Winter chose silence as her answer, which Salem appeared to be fine with, as she continued to speak in place of Winter’s wordless response. 

“I must give Ozpin credit, this idea of his was...unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome,” Salem’s smirk returned in full force. Winter tried to ignore the way the sight of such a deliciously smug expression shot straight where Winter would have loved Salem to be, even when she was now an impending threat.  
  
“What do you mean by that?” Winter’s voice was firm, her ‘officer’ tone making an appearance, given the seriousness of what was transpiring. Salem let out a sigh, rolling her eyes with a strangely affectionate expression.

“What do you think I mean by that? Let’s see if you’ve been paying attention…” Salem’s foot found the back of Winter’s leg beneath the table, slowly applying pressure as it slid over her calf. Winter shifted at the contact, almost banging her knee on the table, and the breathy noise that tumbled from her lips made Salem’s eyes flash and darken.

“I uncovered Ozpin’s little game of matchmaker quite some time ago. If I truly desired your death, specialist, you would not be sitting here enjoying my delightful company,” Salem stated in a matter-of-fact tone, her heeled foot continuing its slow caress of Winter’s leg beneath the table. 

Winter’s head was spinning from the buzz of champagne, arousal and fear; it was an explosive cocktail. Salem seemed to be thriving on her revelation as she once again shifted the situation in her favor. It was exhilarating, watching the colour drain from Winter’s pretty face, seeing fear and desire merge into a dangerous concoction Salem couldn’t wait to drink in.

“All that remains is to settle the terms of our ‘agreement’,” Salem pressed on, her foot slowly ceasing its torment as Winter finally remembered to breathe. The soldier grabbed her glass, knocking back the last of her champagne in one go for some liquid courage, to assist with her wavering regular courage.  
  
Winter knew Salem now held all the cards in this situation. The mission had failed. Winter was grateful to be alive, and still in shock that Salem wasn’t filled with fury at the, on reflection, rather humiliating, romantic scheme conjured by Ozpin.

“What is it that you want?” Winter carefully asked.  
  
“Even with such a brilliant mind, you’re incredibly slow tonight.” 

Salem stood from her chair. Winter instinctively did the same. The witch stepped out from under the table, reaching with both arms outstretched to bury her fingers into Winter’s shirt, wrenching her forwards, smashing their lips together.

It took Winter a moment for her brain to catch up with what was happening. The feel of Salem’s merciless lips against hers, her evil tongue forcing its way inside her mouth to explore, stirred Winter from her surprise. Winter let out a muffled, appreciative sigh, her arms wrapping around Salem’s waist to tug her closer, their bodies pressing flush against one another.

Salem broke apart from the kiss to gasp at their snug contact. Her arms laced around Winter’s shoulders, forcing the operative to stay right where she wanted her now that she finally had her in her grasp. Winter had no objection to their closeness, staring into the witch’s fierce eyes.  
  
“These are _my_ terms…” Salem whispered, leaning forward to murmur them quietly down Winter’s ear. Winter felt a tingle up her spine, biting her lip to stifle a whimper that tried to escape as she listened to the witch’s enticing proposal.

“What will it be, Winter? Do you accept this arrangement?” Salem met sparkling blue eyes, pupils blown wide.  
  
“I accept,” Winter answered without a moment’s hesitation.

  
  


~ **** ~

The journey from the gardens to Salem’s private quarters was far more exciting than Winter thought it would be. The witch tugged her by her hand through the empty old corridors with a huff of annoyance. Winter found herself grinning from Salem’s evident impatience as they stopped along the way several times to indulge in more heated kissing and even a few wandering hands. 

Salem kept slapping Winter’s palms off her whenever they shifted too low or too high, adding to the soldier’s own impatience. Salem definitely knew how to get her worked up. Winter had been wound tight ever since their almost kiss beside the fireplace.  
  
“Finally,” Salem exhaled with frustration once they reached what Winter assumed were her quarters. Before she could make a sarcastic remark, the witch had grabbed the specialist by the shoulders and shoved her against the wooden door, her lips instantly on hers. 

Whatever Winter was going to say ended up muffled by Salem’s ravenous mouth, morphing into a strained moan. The second her lips parted enough, Salem’s tongue was invading again, flicking and sliding inside her mouth until Winter felt her legs turn to jelly. 

Nobody had ever kissed her like this before, and if Salem’s urgency was any indication, she assumed it had been far too long for her too. While they declared war with their mouths, Salem’s hand shot down to grab the rusty door handle, pushing it down firmly, the loud noise of the lock clicking open barely registering in the back of Winter’s mind.

She felt the ancient door giving under their bodies. Salem surged forward with her weight. The momentum caused her hips to press into Winter’s, earning a delightful gasp from the soldier thanks to the teasing pressure. The door swung inwards, both of them falling through it.  
  
Winter regained her balance first, one arm tightening around Salem’s waist to keep the witch from tumbling over. Salem let out a grunt at the ‘honourable soldier rescuing her’ - it only served to light her burning need for Winter even further. 

Salem forced her weight against Winter so hard that the specialist stumbled backwards with a worried exhale that she would topple onto the floor. Salem knew exactly where to steer her, until Winter fell instead, against a mattress with thick, worn, dark sheets. It creaked under the sudden weight of its occupant, shortly followed by another, as the witch straddled Winter’s lap, barely giving her time to adjust to the position.

“I’m amazed we made it in one piece,” Winter said. 

Her ponytail was hanging loose; some of the buttons of her blouse were missing or ripped open and Winter sported red marks all over her neck and her face. The mess was clear evidence of their eventful journey to the bedroom. Salem smirked, and the arousing state of disarray Winter was in did nothing to help her burning desire for the other woman. Salem could feel locks of her hair had fallen free where they had escaped from her bun. Her nipples were hard under the fabric of her robes and her hands were shaking. She wasn’t sure she could take it much longer.

“Stop talking and put that mouth to better use,” Salem ordered in a low voice that sent a throb straight to the aching spot between Winter’s thighs.  
  
Winter gave a silent nod of acknowledgment, reveling in the way it caused Salem’s breath to hitch at her immediate and eager obedience. 

It had been so long since Salem had a participant for demands of this nature...the only other had been Ozma. He too, had been eager to do his best to please her, and in turn, Salem had gone above and beyond to reciprocate his wonderful treatment. Winter was wholly similar and entirely different from Ozma; but the heroic nature of a brave soldier was a weakness Salem hadn’t been able to overcome. 

Perhaps Ozpin himself had seen the similarities, and that was why he had chosen Winter for his little plan. Regardless of the reasoning, Salem was pleased that it had turned out just the way she wanted: with Winter ready to follow her lustful orders for as long as the two of them so desired.

The specialist’s hands reached to loosen the belt at Salem’s waist, her movement efficient, as one would expect from a trained soldier with a demeanor such as hers. Winter made quick work of it, discarding it swiftly onto the floor, considering her rapidly diminishing patience.

Salem must have been thinking similarly, as she reached to grab the top half of her outfit and pull the garment rapidly over her head, throwing it aside carelessly. Winter was met with a delectable sight. The witch had, teasingly, forgone a bra, leaving her breasts completely exposed to the specialist, revealing her hardened nipples to the younger woman. Winter bit her lip firmly from the view, her fingers twitching where they were desperate to cop a feel of those wonderful globes.  
  
The witch, however, had a different plan. She reached up to gently loosen Winter’s hair from her ponytail, raking her fingers through white locks affectionately...before her grip of the soldier’s head tightened, and she pushed her chest into her face. Winter felt arousal tugging at her core as she was smothered by Salem’s breasts.

“What are you waiting for? Pleasure me,” Salem commanded, her voice giving away the state she was in. Now that she had her orders, Winter got to work, her tongue sliding out to fervently lick the space between Salem’s breasts. Salem shivered from the wet warmth that began covering her sensitive flesh, impressed by Winter’s self-control as she took her sweet time driving her to the edge.

Winter’s mouth licked and kissed at Salem’s soft mounds for a while, completely ignoring her erect nipples begging for attention. Salem’s hips jerked forwards when Winter torturously blew hot air against one of them. A strangled moan tore from Salem’s throat when Winter finally wrapped her lips around the aching nipple and started lavishing it with heavenly attention.  
  
“Oh, that feels amazing,” Salem sighed, her voice higher, head tipping back as she continued to press her chest into Winter’s face. 

Winter was so focused on accomplishing her goal, she decided to kick it up a notch. One hand rose to cup Salem’s other breast. Winter began massaging it, catching her nipple to rub it between her fingers. Salem nearly saw stars from Winter’s skillful fingers and tongue, her hips grinding down across the woman’s lap from her unbridled lust. Salem was more pent up than she realised, after their exciting foreplay through the castle. If Winter carried on like this Salem would combust far too soon. She needed the specialist’s fingers buried somewhere else, and she needed them _now_.

“Stop,” Salem urged breathlessly. 

Winter pulled away from her lover’s delightful chest, even while eager to continue. She was breathing heavily, her face glistening wet. The sight alone was enough to send another surge of heat right to the witch’s core. Salem saw the flicker of worry behind Winter’s eyes, that she’d done something to displease her. The witch smirked from the soldier’s sweet expression.  
  
“If you keep that up, I’m going to come,” Salem explained calmly.

The witch thoroughly enjoyed the rush of colour that painted Winter’s cheeks and the widening of sky-blue hues from her matter-of-fact explanation. Winter felt both shy and proud to learn just how worked up Salem was thanks to her actions. She opened her mouth to speak, but Salem’s finger landed on her moistened lips to silence her.

“I require those fingers of yours somewhere else.” 

The witch shifted atop Winter’s lap to allow the lower half of her separated robe to slide down her waist. Winter aided Salem in removing the lengthy skirt, her heart almost stopping at what she discovered, once the garment reached the floor, immediately forgotten about.  
  
“You weren’t wearing any…all evening?” Winter whispered, her eyes darting up to meet Salem’s crimson, shivering from the lustful smirk she was wearing - the only thing she was wearing. 

“I left a single layer for you to remove,” Salem teased, drawing out her words with a smile that screamed of the endless pleasure she intended to bestow upon Winter.

Salem re-positioned herself over Winter’s lap. The sight and feeling of the witch’s naked form atop her fully clothed body was enough to make Winter squirm under her. Salem’s fingers curled around Winter’s wrist, tugging her hand down quickly between her ghostly white thighs.  
  
Passion was a powerful force, and with it on her side, Winter was able to push through her quiet anxiousness from inexperience, to do her best to satiate Salem’s desires. As the witch pressed Winter’s hand against her soaked folds, the specialist began to run her fingers up and down her lover’s core, exploring her wetness.

Winter’s breath caught in her throat, amazed by how aroused she was. Salem moaned at the contact, releasing Winter’s wrist now that she had helped her along enough. Her fingers rose to grasp hold of Winter’s shoulders tightly, steadying herself so she could leverage her weight to roll her hips against the specialist’s nimble fingers.  
  
“Winter,” Salem huffed out impatiently between shallow breaths, “ _inside_ ,” she urged, her request evolving into a grateful moan. 

Winter had done as she was told, a single digit sliding into the witch’s waiting heat, all the way to the knuckle. Winter was captivated by the tight warmth of Salem’s walls, and after a second of hesitation, she began to mimic the actions she used to pleasure herself during all those lonely nights. Winter withdrew to the tip before slipping back inside at a slow, deliberate pace. Salem squeezed down against Winter’s shoulders, her hips eagerly sinking onto the specialist’s hand.  
  
“More,” the witch rasped out, hungry to chase after the pleasure that surged through her veins. Winter obliged, turning her wrist to thrust a second finger inside, quick to join the first. The guttural noise that tore from Salem’s throat sent a powerful throb to Winter’s core, and before she could stop herself, she exhaled a soft moan of her own from the shared feeling of their lust for each other.

Winter continued her steady pace. The lewd sound of Salem’s arousal accompanied by her tiny, delighted gasps left the specialist aching as if she’d just run several hundred laps around the entirety of Atlas’ military grounds. Salem’s thighs were shaking, a thin layer of sweat building up atop her scolding, pale skin. She crashed her hips down in time with Winter’s upward thrusting; she was almost there, close already thanks to her overwhelming desire for the pretty soldier. 

Winter’s eyes were settled on Salem, content to watch her face contort with pleasure with every well-executed motion of her curling wrist. She really was breathtaking...

“Yes, _yes_ ,” Salem moaned as Winter felt the heightening intensity around her fingers, the witch’s body coaxing her deeper and deeper. She teased and rubbed the place that she knew would tip Salem over the edge. 

The witch’s fingers dug painfully into Winter’s shirt, cutting open the thin fabric from her vice grip. The sting of pain as nails sank into her skin only served to motivate Winter to keep going. The specialist angled her palm to press it firmly against the witch’s clit every time Salem drove her hips down to meet her shifting wrist.  
  
“Winter!” Salem cried desperately, squeezing her eyes shut as a mind-shattering orgasm hit her in full force. Winter kept her fingers moving inside her lover as she rode out the bliss of pleasure, warmth and relief spreading over every inch of her body.

Salem went limp, falling forwards against the soldier’s body. Winter was able to catch her with her free arm, lifting her hand to brush damp, silvery white locks from Salem’s peaceful face. After a while, Salem’s breathing evened out, and dark eyes blinked open, met with shining blue.  
  
“Was that sufficient?” Winter asked with a proud smile.

Salem leaned up from where she’d been lying against her lover’s surprisingly strong figure, shifting to press a deep kiss against the soldier’s mouth. Winter moaned into the embrace, and it was only after her pleasure had ebbed away and cleared the haze of want in her mind, that Salem realised the poor soul was still in her clothes.  
  
“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Salem suggested, pleased to see Winter’s confidence tremble under the new order. Reaching down between her sticky thighs, Salem extracted Winter’s fingers from herself with a shivering sigh, before lifting the offending hand for Winter to see. Feeling her lover’s arousal and seeing it were two entirely different experiences - though both were unfairly sexy to Winter, who exhaled heavily from the come coating her fingers.  
  
“Oh my…” Winter breathed out, her eyes growing half-lidded, her lips parting. Salem smirked, gripping Winter’s wrist, sliding the soldier’s glistening fingers into her mouth. Winter let out a startled sound as Salem’s tongue swirled and sucked her digits clean, prompting a muffled moan as Salem tasted herself on Winter’s fingers. Winter bit down on her lip, hard, from the lewd display and the fresh wave of arousal that surged through her system. Salem released her tight hold of Winter’s wrist, tugging her lover’s fingers back out of her mouth with a wet pop.  
  
“And now,” Salem murmured sweetly, licking her lips, “it’s my turn.”

Winter had no time to react before Salem was starting to undress her.  
  
“You don’t have to,” Winter attempted to slow down the sudden shift in attention, but Salem’s swift fingers were removing her waistcoat faster than she could catch her breath. Salem let out a sharp laugh, a terrifying grin on her face as she looked at Winter, the sight and sound sending an ungodly throb between her thighs.  
  
“I’ve been desperate to get you out of these clothes since the moment you arrived,” Salem said lustfully. Winter felt her face grow hot as she continued to watch as Salem grabbed her shirt and yanked it open, tiny, cream buttons flying everywhere.  
  
While Salem worked on the zipper of her pants, Winter tried to wriggle out of them, kicking her legs to pick up the pace. Pleasuring the witch had left her needy, and Winter was done with being subtle. There was little point denying how badly she craved release, Salem was sure to discover it in mere moments anyway. As they teamed up to cast aside Winter’s clothes, Salem let her eyes roam the specialist’s body, and her ice blue, lacy underwear.  
  
“I assume this choice of attire is for my viewing pleasure?” Salem smirked, leaning over Winter, pressing their bodies together, her finger toying with one of the straps of Winter’s bra. Winter frowned, her face darkening with a blush as she turned her head away to avoid Salem’s smug look.  
  
“Worn and bought,” Winter muttered under her breath with mild embarrassment from her admission. Salem chuckled, clearly pleased by Winter’s extra efforts to look delectable.

”So very considerate,” Salem hummed affectionately. Before Winter could react, the witch had rid her of the underwear so quickly she almost missed it. Winter felt herself blush from her sudden exposure, but Salem was enraptured by the view. The witch’s breathing quickened as she drank in the sight of Winter’s naked, toned body.

“You are simply divine,” Salem whispered, reaching to drag her nails atop Winter’s stomach, feeling the taut muscles jump under her merciless touch. 

Winter was certain she imagined the word that escaped Salem’s lips, finding it hard to believe the witch would consider her as such, when Winter thought the very same of her. Salem’s mouth at her neck brought her out of her thoughts as the witch left a trail of hot kisses in her wake. Winter was a writhing, gasping mess when Salem’s sharp teeth were finished with her.  
  
“Now, now, darling,” Salem warned with a soft smirk as she sat across Winter’s shifting hips to admire her handiwork: several large hickeys to show off Winter’s mission success. “We don’t want you to come too early, do we?” Salem teasingly rocked her hips against the soldier’s, feeling her jerk eagerly into the contact.

Winter huffed out an annoyed breath, feeling humiliation from the mocking implication that she was close, coupled with the feeling of Salem grinding down on her so torturously slowly. Winter looked as if she wanted to take back a measure of control, and Salem was filled with glee at the chance to shut down her attempts.  
  
“I’m a highly trained military operative, I possess plenty of endurance and-” Winter moved to sit up. Salem caught her wrists lightning fast, pinning them back down against the bed, turning what remained of Winter’s sentence into a gasp of surprise.  
  
“And…?” Salem’s sweet tone trailed away as she leaned close, her eyes locking with Winter’s, her hips continuing to grind into her lover’s. Winter swallowed dryly, her heart racing, the feel of Salem’s breasts pressing against her own driving her crazy. She felt Salem’s fingers squeeze tightly around her wrists, hard enough to elicit a whimper.

“And…” Winter tried, her voice an octave higher as she watched Salem’s eyes flash with satisfaction. “I want you,” Winter confessed the first coherent thought that entered her mind. Salem let out a laugh, though this one sounded pleased and pleasantly warm. Winter was taken aback by how light it sounded...and she closed her eyes, picturing the descriptions of what Salem once looked like, imagining the woman laughing like that a long time ago.  
  
“I have great respect for your honesty,” Salem’s alluring voice drew her from her daydream as Winter’s eyes blinked open again. “But that’s quite enough. The only sound I wish to hear from you is the scream of my name.” Salem shifted off her slightly, releasing her wrists. She let out a scolding ‘ah, ah!’ when Winter went to move them.  
  
“Keep your hands above your head.” Winter managed a nod, and Salem’s expression softened into an endearing smile that made Winter shiver. 

Winter watched with growing anticipation as Salem trailed her hands down her form, pausing at her breasts to give them a quick, gentle squeeze. Winter bucked under her from the contact, her voice wobbling through a needy moan. She was embarrassed from her reaction, but Salem seemed to have enjoyed it, by the way her crimson hues flashed with lust. Winter’s heart felt as if it would burst as she held her breath, waiting to see what Salem intended to do to her.

The witch moved off of Winter’s body to stand at the edge of the bed, taking Winter’s calves in her grip to pull her down enough that her legs were hanging over the side. When warm, veined hands came to rest at her knees, Salem’s plan finally sunk in. It was something Winter had never done, and it terrified the specialist, to have no control of the situation, or prior knowledge to rely upon. In a way, it was also exhilarating, to let go of all that held her back, if only for a brief, private moment between herself and Salem.

Winter’s assumptions were right. Salem moved to kneel, slowly prising Winter’s legs apart, feeling mild resistance as the soldier instinctively clenched her muscles. Salem looked up to where Winter was staring down at her with wide eyes.  
  
“There’s nothing to fear,” Salem reassured softly, leaning down to place a delicate kiss on the inside of Winter’s thighs. “You are free to let go while you are with me, Winter. This may surprise you, but I can be gentle.” Winter felt her heart ache with newfound appreciation from the show of humanity Salem still possessed. 

When the specialist’s expression softened, Salem took it as confirmation to continue, her attention returning to Winter’s thighs. The soldier’s muscles relaxed this time, when Salem pushed them open enough that she could situate herself between them.

Winter almost couldn’t believe what she was seeing as she watched Salem’s head dipping down between her legs. She felt warm lips kissing over her sensitive skin, eliciting a soft sound from Winter as she tried to refrain from shaking.  
  
“Mm, is this really all for me?” Salem breathed out when her eyes were drawn to Winter’s evident arousal, inhaling the specialist’s intoxicating scent. The witch’s expression darkened with hunger. Winter grew hot with embarrassment; she squeezed her eyes shut, hiding her face in her arm as she felt Salem’s warm breath gliding over her glistening folds.  
  
Winter’s hips writhed desperately, barely able to handle even a second of teasing after all she had endured that night. Salem, pitying her lover and respecting her incredible patience, placed her hands atop Winter’s thighs to hold her in place, her mouth descending on the specialist.

If Winter thought she had been warm before, the heat of Salem’s mouth at her core almost made her come instantly. A cry of relief erupted from Winter as she was finally granted contact where she needed it most. Salem acknowledged the time for teasing had passed, replacing drawn out touches with quick, efficient flicks.  
  
Her tongue swirled expertly over Winter’s bundle of nerves, a hum of approval escaping the witch from the taste of the specialist. It reminded Salem of how much Winter truly wanted her. The thought served to inspire Salem’s tongue to slide lower, lapping hungrily at the soldier’s sopping entrance. Winter let out a whimpering sigh from the vibration of Salem’s voice, before she went slack jawed with silent delight.

Winter could barely breathe as burning hot pleasure coiled in the pit of her stomach with every probing swipe of Salem’s gifted tongue, the invading muscle swiping against her shuddering walls. Winter’s fingers curled tightly into the thick sheets beneath her, her muscles tensing where she applied pressure, fighting to keep her hands above her head.  
  
Winter moaned loudly, her lower half attempting to launch off the bed to desperately press harder into Salem’s busy mouth. The witch smirked against Winter’s core from the sound of her contagious euphoria. Her grip of the specialist’s thighs held Winter steady to keep the soldier from bucking her off with her powerful, writhing hips.

Salem felt Winter shaking under her fingers, sweat trickling down the witch’s forehead as her nose brushed over and over the soldier’s swollen bud. Winter knew it was beyond filthy, but she suddenly felt the desperate urge to watch what Salem was doing to her. Her eyes flew open, shooting down to where Salem was working. Sensing the sky, Salem looked up to meet Winter’s gaze. Even with the witch’s mouth occupied with dragging her closer towards release, the specialist could see the smirk of accomplishment sparkling in Salem’s blood red hues. 

It was too much, and with a passionate scream of “Salem!” Winter succumbed to the pleasure wracking through her body and plummeted into the abyss. Salem wasn’t sure how long the specialist rode her face, or how long she moaned and sobbed through the waves of paradise, but she did not stop until she was certain the intensity of Winter’s orgasm would be seared into the soldier’s brain for a long time to come. 

Eventually Winter’s thighs stilled under Salem’s hands and her breathing grew quiet. Careful not to pull away too quickly, the witch gave a few final, affectionate licks to the specialist’s folds, before ending with a soft, drawn out kiss. Exhausted but proud of her work, Salem rested her face against the inside of Winter’s thigh. She took a moment to catch her breath back, feeling wetness coating her mouth and chin, prompting a victorious smile.

After composing herself, the witch looked up to find an equally exhausted soldier staring at her with a combination of awe and yearning. Salem moved to drop onto the bed, exhaling a sigh. She motioned for Winter to join her with two fingers. For a moment Winter was reminded of the night they met, their first exchange having been a strangely similar gesture from the witch. Winter used her last ounce of strength to crawl up the bed, collapsing across Salem’s arm with a tired groan.

Salem drew her closer, her fingers rising to gently brush Winter’s sweaty fringe off her face. Winter’s eyes fluttered shut and she wasn’t sure how long it would be before she passed out completely.  
  
“Please...don’t fall asleep, not yet,” Salem whispered. 

Winter forced her eyes open, blinking slowly with a soft, questioning noise escaping her that was likely her attempt at asking why. If she’d been more awake, Winter might have taken notice of Salem’s vulnerable request, or the strange way her eyes had glossed over with unshed tears. Salem looked to Winter’s lips. She pressed a sweet kiss to the specialist’s mouth, trying to draw the motion out of the exhausted woman to keep her awake, if only for a moment longer. Winter hummed against her, her mind reminding her she was supposed to kiss back.  
  
“Salem…” Winter murmured tiredly between their lips as her lover left a series of short, soft kisses against her mouth. “Salem,” she tried again when the witch ignored her, reaching to cup her face and pull her away lightly. “Kiss me in the morning,” Winter said sleepily, and her eyes fell shut, even as she tried to fight it.  
  
Salem felt her heart ache painfully at the notion of there being a tomorrow with Winter. It frightened her, to grow close to another again, after all this time. What would happen when the inevitable day came that she lost Winter, just as she had lost Ozma?

“In the morning,” Salem repeated quietly to herself.  
  
 _That’s right...we still have the morning._

  
~ **** ~

Their next meeting was scheduled a week after the last, and would continue to occur at the same time, for as long as their arrangement held up. Winter had accomplished her mission, though it was perhaps not in the way she had expected. What had once been a ludicrous objective, that was her duty to attempt, was now a pleasant occurrence that the two indulged in gladly. Winter would meet with Salem at her castle, at their agreed time, and the two would relieve stress together while discussing a way to move forward peacefully for the sake of Remnant.

There were days where Salem’s imbalance of destruction would cause her negative emotions to arise, igniting frighteningly dangerous arguments between them. However, Salem never once broke her promise not to attack innocents while Winter continued her visits. As their meetings went on, their interest in each other only strengthened, enough so that they could forgo the protective layers in place while in the solitude of each other’s peaceful company. 

Salem handed Winter her morning coffee after a particularly long, passionate night, climbing back into bed with the specialist, a fresh cup of tea clasped in her own hands. This was their morning routine, sharing a hot drink in bed while Winter looked over reports and Salem took the chance to snooze a bit longer with the safety of her soldier at hand.  
  
On this particular morning, Salem was content to snuggle into Winter’s side while she read over another report from the General. Salem sipped her tea before humming in thought, drawing Winter’s attention from her reading.  
  
“I never asked what exactly it was you wrote in your report after that first night we shared together,” Salem pondered aloud. Winter let out an amused breath down her nose, placing her datapad on the bed so she could give Salem her full attention.  
  
“No, you never asked,” Winter echoed. Salem cocked an eyebrow.

 _I know that look,_ the specialist thought.  
  
“Let me rephrase the statement...I am asking you now,” she reiterated, digging her fingers into Winter’s side from her tiresome teasing. The soldier huffed out a soft laugh.  
  
“Fine,” she caved, having a swig of coffee. “I told him that I’d accomplished my mission and I would forward the agreement to him once we had finalised it.” Salem smirked and Winter tried not to be baited by the smug look on the witch’s face. Salem knew exactly what she was doing, and Winter couldn’t help herself. “What is it?”  
  
“Well, you weren’t entirely honest with James,” Salem pointed out.

Winter frowned. “What manner of dishonesty are you referring to?” 

“Omitting the truth.” Winter sighed, bringing a hand up to bury her face against it. “You should have informed the General of the delightful irony that your little plan to ‘restore’ my heart has now led to _you_ desperately falling for _me_ ,” Salem continued proudly.

“I won’t deny that,” Winter tried not to smile too hard from the double eyebrow raise she was granted in response. Salem’s arrogant display suddenly backfired, her ghostly white cheeks reddening as she rolled her eyes.  
  
“Perhaps you should tell James this,” Salem suggested stiffly.

“Perhaps,” Winter murmured. “And perhaps you should tell Ozpin that his plan to restore your heart through the love of another worked perfectly.”

“On reflection, I see how omitting the truth may be a viable option,” Salem conceded, her heart doing something strangely pleasant, as it always did, whenever Winter matched her wit. “Is it time for morning kisses?” The witch asked, placing her tea beside the bed. 

Winter hummed in feigned contemplation. Salem’s hands found their way to her face, her fingers dancing an affectionate pattern along her jaw. Winter’s answer came in the form of a gentle, lingering kiss against Salem’s lips. The witch smiled into their embrace. 

Although the fear of losing Winter one day remained in the deepest, darkest depths of her mending heart, Salem reminded herself that for now, at least, they still had the morning.


End file.
